Throne Novels & Stories

*Our family’s power hinges on this match. She moved to the Peerage, finding the Ashworth entry. Lineage stretching back centuries, alliances forged through marriage and war, lands vast and strategically important. And her own entry: *Lady Vivian Ashworth, b. [Date], Engaged to H.R.H. Crown Prince Alexander.* A simple line holding the weight of her destiny. Then, almost as an afterthought: *Sophia Bellweather, d. of the late Baron Bellweather of Willow Creek. Companion to Lady Marguerite Thorne.* The disparity was stark. Sophia wasn’t just lower-born; she was practically insignificant in the eyes of the noble registry. *Except to the Prince. And to the plot.*

"That crappy orchard your brother bought. It’s got quite a bit of rosemary in it. Ha! Not only has that dump never made a single dime, we still have to pay a crew to maintain it every year." A thought flickered in my mind. I knew that place. The orchard sat on a ruined silver mine, its trees drawing on the soil and the breath of silver for years, gaining a power to ward off evil. The Haunts came with the wind, but silver tamed the wind. Those trees were worth far more than my mother and brother could ever imagine. If my infant spirits had wielded weapons made from that wood, they would have been unstoppable.

And they were walking straight into it. The throne itself rose from the center of the Vale, carved from obsidian and bone, crowned with flame that never flickered. It pulsed with ancient magic, the kind that didn’t ask permission. Aria felt it in her chest, pressing against the unborn flame inside her. Luna stopped walking. “He’s here,” she said. Kaelion nodded. “Then we finish this.”

She gestured toward the far end of the hall, and I followed it— To a raised dais. I hadn’t noticed it in the frantic fight. At the far end of the gallery, beyond the broken window, a smaller **throne** sat: less dramatic than the one I’d glimpsed in my half-written drafts, but unmistakable High‑backed, carved, with veins of dark wood running through it like dried blood. DON’T BLEED ON THE THRONE, the rule on the wall had said. “And where is that?” Corvin asked, voice flat.

Inside, they found no statues, only memories frozen in time. In the center of the hall stood five thrones, each corresponding to an element. But there was a sixth throne—shattered and cold—at the very end. ThroneElementOriginal CustodianStatus The GlacialIce/OrderThe Queen of CalmElara's Template The SolarFire/WillThe King of CoreKael's Template The TideWater/LifeThe Abyssal LordTrench-King's Template The CrystalEarth/HarmonyThe Weaver of BondsZane's Template The GaleAir/OscillationThe Voice of the WindJulian's Template

“If you don’t show, they’ll see it as weakness.” “And if I do show?” “Then you make a statement. That you’re powerful, allied with Blackthorn, and not to be trifled with.” He pulled me close. “I’ll be with you every step.” “This is getting complicated.” “It was always going to be complicated. You’re royalty, Aria. People are going to have opinions about that.” His hand cupped my face. “But you’re not alone. You have me. You have Blackthorn. And apparently, we’re about to have Mountain Ridge too.”

POV: Lucian The coronation happens on the first clear morning after the solstice, the twin moons still visible at the horizon as the sun rises, the overlap of light sources that has become Drevalon's new normal producing the particular gold and red illumination that the rebuilt throne room carries better than the original ever did, the new stone chosen specifically for how it catches the dual light. Two thrones have been placed at the chamber's center, side by side on the same raised platform, the design matching in structure and differing in detail, Drevalon's craft in the wolf throne and Thornha

he said quietly, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the air like distant thunder. Throne lifted his head with deliberate slowness, gray eyes gleaming with malicious glee through swollen lids. "I simply find it interesting," he rasped, voice hoarse from disuse and abuse, "how quickly love turns monsters so... predictable." Silence crashed down, thick and electric. Then Kael moved—blindingly fast, a blur of lethal precision. His fist drove into Throne's stomach with bone-crushing force, the impact reverberating off the walls and cracking the stone behind the elder's back. Throne choked viol

Real alarm. “Step away from it.” Liora froze at his tone. Then the throne called her name. Not aloud. Inside the chamber itself, in the mountain, and inside her. “Liora.” My body locked immediately. Because I heard it too. The voice carried through the cavern like breath moving beneath stone, ancient and impossibly powerful. The throne was alive. And it wanted her. Silver light exploded across the floor beneath Liora’s feet as the runes surrounding the throne ignited fully for the first time in centuries.

“With your drugs that you thought could control me? Or with your body that serves both Angelina and me?” “No way…” His lips trembled uncontrollably. “You clearly took them every day…” Angelina’s face instantly turned red. She slammed the table and shouted, “Throw this madwoman out of the family!” I ignored her shouting and slowly removed the glove from my right hand. I raised my hand. On my thumb was an ancient, heavy black-gold ring, engraved with the family emblem—a phoenix in flames. The don’s ring was the symbol of the family’s highest authority. The entire room fell silent.